I wash my hands....

Book recommending is, in its nature, an evil act. I will have no part of it.

Here is what happens: A friend you love will recommend you a book. They will say how breathtaking it is, what a roller-coaster ride, how tragic, how hilarious, or worst of all, how true. It will, inevitably, be awful. You suddenly feel revolted by that friend, realising that their heart is naught but worms and snakes. You will never really like them again, really.

I never, ever, ever recommend books. However, I’m on a train this morning with nothing else to do, so I will. I’m nothing if not a hypocrite.

Now, this is a very easy game. The best novel ever written is The Brothers Karamazov, by Dostoevsky (get the one translated by Pevear and Volokhonsky, it’s the only good English translation). If you read it you’ll never have to bother reading another novel ever again, saving money and valuable space in luggage. Simples. If you die without reading it, you actually haven’t lived.

Now, here are the other 5 best books:

The Little World of Don Camillo (Giovanni Guareschi) - the most charming book in the world.

The Good Soldier Svejk (Jaroslav Hasek) - the funniest book in the world.

The Idiot (Dostoevsky) - the most sublime book in the world.

Complete Father Brown (GK Chesterton) - the most surprising book in the world.

The Complete Plays of Bernard Shaw - the most entertaining book in the world.

There it is.

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